


i will be your home (keep you warm when it's cold)

by lovelyleias



Category: Deltora Quest - Emily Rodda
Genre: F/M, Families of Choice, Sickfic, post return to del
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 23:44:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12493572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyleias/pseuds/lovelyleias
Summary: Jasmine falls ill, and is tended to by her newfound family.





	i will be your home (keep you warm when it's cold)

Jasmine wakes early one late-summer morning, shaking with cold. She shivers under the covers, holding herself in a tight ball, but she cannot get warm. Finally, she kicks the blankets away in frustration and sits up. Perhaps a cup of tea would help. Kree ruffles his feathers and flies onto her shoulder, while Filli crawls out from under the blankets and up into her waiting hand. With her free hand she rubs at the gooseflesh that prickles her arms.

She leaves her room and walks down the quiet corridor. Her legs feel heavy; perhaps she is still tired. She is nearly at the kitchen when a wave of exhaustion slams into her body. She stumbles and catches herself against the wall. Pricks of light flicker at the edge of her vision, and her breath comes out in huge gasps. 

She stands there for a while, until the feeling passes.

_What has happened?_ Kree asks, burrowing his beak into her hair.

“Nothing,” she whispers. “I am just tired.”

It is still dark, and the huge kitchen is empty when she arrives. She knows the room well, though, and weaves her way expertly through. Kree takes off from her shoulder and lands on the back of a chair. Jasmine trembles but she ignores Kree’s squawk of concern. She reaches for the kettle with shaking fingers, but she cannot muster the strength to lift it to the stove. She lets it go and realizes simply that she cannot remember how she had arrived in the kitchen. Her legs betray her and she staggers backwards, as the floor seems to swell beneath her feet. She cannot suppress a cry of fear. Suddenly, she is falling, falling, falling forward, with her arms loose at her side. Her head hits the floor with a crack, and she is lost to darkness.

—

Someone is carrying her. But why? Something bad has happened. She opens her eyes and immediately regrets it; pain floods through her head, half-blinding her. It is brighter, now. She squints up, and makes out Barda’s face through the haze. Where are they? She remembers Dread Mountain, suddenly, and the poison dart she had pulled from her hand. 

“Am I the only one?” she croaks. 

Barda stops and Lief is suddenly in her vision, his face creased with worry. Filli clings to his shoulder, and whispers, _we found them, we found them for you_. 

“What are you talking about, Jasmine?” Lief’s voice is very tense.

It takes her a moment to find her words. “The… Dread Gnomes’ darts… am I the only one… they hit? Is Prin safe?”

Lief says something else, but she cannot make it out. The walls begin to spin, and she closes her eyes again.

“Everyone is fine,” Barda’s voice reverberates through her body, and he begins to walk again. “Rest now.”

He holds her tightly, and she can hear Lief’s footsteps and the sound of flapping wings. Confused, but comforted, she closes her eyes and lets the world fall away.

—

She drifts between sleep and consciousness. A thought needles through her mind that she is not poisoned, and not in Dread Mountain, but ill in her bed in the Del palace. Someone has dressed her in a buttery-soft blue nightgown, and her bedsheets are repeatedly untangled from her sweat-soaked legs as she tosses and turns in the bed. 

She dreams of monsters with the faces of her friends; of tree roots that burst from the earth and wrap around her neck; of a man and a boy, who she recognizes but cannot name, who lie dead because of her. 

—

The next time she wakes, she feels Lief sitting on the bed behind her, propping her head up, as Barda tilts a mug of warm, salty broth against her lips. She chokes down a few mouthfuls, and listens to Barda curse as it comes right back up. 

“It is fine, you are fine,” Lief is whispering as he rubs circles on her back. He lets go of her head and she collapses back into his lap.

—

A strange man with a shock of red hair is leaning over her. Who is he? Why is he so close to her? She turns her head and sees Lief looking down at her anxiously. Why is he letting the man get so close? The red-haired man pushes something cold between her lips, and a foul-tasting liquid slides down her throat. She splutters in protest as he removes the spoon, and she lashes out weakly and catches his cheekbone with her fingers. He flinches backward, and Jasmine sinks back into her pillow.

—

“It is usually an illness that falls upon very young children, I have never seen it in a patient of her age. It appears quite mildly in children, and goes away quite quickly, except in the most rare cases.”

“Is she going to— will she get better?”

“I cannot say, your majesty. It is difficult to tell, especially as she does not seem to be able to reach full consciousness. We will continue with the medicine, and be sure that she is given lots of water.”

There is silence. 

“I am sorry she hit you.”

“Not at all, your majesty, she hardly touched me.”

—

“You nearly hit your healer, you stubborn girl,” a voice rumbles through her dreams. “It is good to know nothing can take the fight from you.”

She _knows_ that voice; it is that of a dear friend. But she cannot think of his name, only of a stern and bearded face and the knowledge that they had fought side-by-side, and that he would give his life for hers.

—

Someone is in the room, but her eyes are too heavy to possibly open. She can hear breathing. She knows she is vulnerable, but she cannot bring herself to care. 

“You better stay strong,” the words sound very far away. “We cannot lose you.”

“Who is there?” she slurs through cracked lips.

There is a moment of silence and then Doom says, “go back to sleep.”

She listens.

—

Lief is holding her hand. She wonders how she can tell it is him, she wonders if she is dreaming, but she knows him, and she knows he is holding her hand. He is whispering something to her, _pleading_ her to do something. But what?

_I am too tired to do anything,_ she wants to tell him. _Just let me sleep._

His whispering continues and she realizes that he sounds frightened. She wants to tell him to be brave, but his whispers sound more like the ripples of a river, and soon she is crashing into the water as the waves pound around her.

—

A small, wet nose presses against her brow and a tiny paw nudges her face.

_Do not disturb her!_

_I do not like that she sleeps so much! It is very bad for her._

There is a warning caw, and the paw withdraws with a nervous whimper.

_You do not know what she needs._

_And you do?_

_They all say she must sleep. Be patient._

_But I miss her!_

_I know._

—

A woman is singing softly, and Jasmine feels a cool cloth against her forehead. It feels so good that Jasmine sighs. The woman keeps singing and Jasmine realizes that she knows that song, she remembers her mother singing it in their house in the trees.

“Mamma?” she croaks, hot tears spilling from her eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sharn says, and strokes her damp hair with gentle fingers.

—

It is day. Sunlight streams the room and she sees a pale pink through the lids of her eyes. Her body feels heavy, like her clothes are waterlogged, and her limbs when she tries to move them feel weak and limp. Her eyes are crusty and it takes a moment of effort before she can open them. She squints through the daylight. The ceiling spins and she stares hard at the gold-painted diamond pattern until it stills. Her head aches and there is a horrible taste in her mouth, but she no longer feels like a stranger in her own body. She shifts a little, and sees Lief sitting slumped at a chair pushed to the edge of her bed. His chin bobs against his chest, as if he did not mean to sleep, and Jasmine feels a rush of fondness. He raises his head slowly, as if he had been woken by her own awakening, and startles when he sees her looking at him.

“Have you come back?” he asks in a tentative whisper.

“I think so,” she tells him hoarsely. “Where are Kree and Filli?”

_I am here!_ Filli scurries from the foot of her bed and up on to her pillow. _Kree has gone to stretch his wings. Oh, we were so afraid!_

“It is alright,” she tells him softly. She cannot bring herself to turn to him, but she reaches a trembling hand to touch his soft fur. Lief is still staring at her, and she sees his eyes are also filled with worry and fear. She frowns, trying to put together all that had happened.

“I was ill,” she says slowly, “and I fell in the kitchen.”

“Yes,” Lief says. “You fainted, and hit your head on the floor. Filli and Kree woke Barda and I, and we took you to your room.”

Jasmine touches a hand to her forehead. She feels a crusty scab where much of the pain resides, but there is no bandage or dressing.

“When was that?”

Lief hesitates. “Six days ago.”

“Six _days_?”

He runs a hand through his hair, and she sees through her bleary vision that it is unwashed, that there are deep bruises under his eyes. “You were so sick, Jasmine. We did not know if— the healer says it is because you have not been around enough people, so you get diseases that the rest of us had as children.”

Jasmine’s thoughts were veiled with a haze, but she remembers having a cough the previous month, and a sore throat shortly after. She wants to ask more, but the room begins to spin again, and she closes her eyes and waits for it to stop. 

“I will get Healer Kennet,” she hears the scrape of the chair against the floor and she opens her eyes hastily.

“No,” she protests as he stands. Being without him is suddenly unthinkable.“Do not leave… stay.”

He sits back after a moment of hesitation. “Are you hungry? Or thirsty?”

It is not until Lief mentions it that she realizes she is _starving._ “Yes, but—“

“I will not leave,” he says quickly, “someone else will come in soon, I am sure. We have all spent a lot of time in here. No one wanted to leave you alone.”

She remembers voices, and people touching her, and she realizes she knows them all. They had stayed with her, they had tried to ease her suffering. Once when she was young enough that she could hardly remember it, she had become very sick in the night. Her father had held her and her mother whispered stories into her ears until she fell asleep in her father’s arms. That was what they had all done for her in the palace, she realizes. They had all provided her with comfort when she needed it, like a family would.

“You were sleeping so much, and we could hardly get you to eat,” Lief’s voice wavers and he suddenly looks very much like a boy, “You said things we did not understand and I did not know if… I thought we might lose you.”

Jasmine struggles to sit up, but she finds she cannot, and instead takes his hand. Her body still feels awful and so shamefully weak, but she knows the worst of it is behind her. He grips her sweaty hand, and smiles through eyes filled with wobbling tears.

“Do not be foolish,” she chides, stroking the palm of his hand with her calloused thumb. “You have not lost me. I am right here.”


End file.
